AUTHORS NOTE: This is (in theory) while Harry is at Grimmauld Place during the Summer right before his fifth year. After his birthday apparently. I am a firm believer that Snape does have a sense of humor in Canon and that the only reason Harry does not see it is because of Ron's influence. So as soon as Ron is gone....
No Beta (for this piece)
Title: Wings
Warnings: Angst?
Length: Drabble type one-shot
Summary: Harry does some…non-introspection
Harry presses his nose against the damp glass of the window at the end of the hall on the third floor of Grimmauld Place. He can hear Sirius' hullaballoo down in the library on the floor below and assumes that he is pestering Remus, again. Rain is sliding down the other side of the pain thick enough that he cannot see the street outside. But that might just be the warped glass that's who knows how old. It's a gray and dreary day with enough fog that not even the overcast in the sky can be seen.
The boy turns his head with a sigh and presses his hot cheek against the glass, enjoying the chill. He draws back, then, and presses his hand firmly against the window. Then he draws it back to see the receding print from his body heat.
With a giggle he blows on the glass and draws a caricature of Snape in Nevill's Grandmother's vulture hat.
"Very mature, Potter," A mellow voice murmurs from behind him.
Shocked, Harry whips around from the window so fast that he falls off the sill onto his arse on the floor with a thump. "Professor!"
The normally dour man chuckles, a surprisingly warm sound from such a menacing figure.
"What's this?" He questions, striding closer to the boy in a very threatening fashion. Harry gets the feeling that Snape is extremely humored, though. "Don't tell me that Potter, the Boy Wonder, is having a moment of introspection? Perish the thought!"
His boots tread on the hem of Harry's blanket so he is forced to scramble up onto the wide sill without it to get out of Snape's shadow. The fifteen year old shivers against the pane in his thin pajamas.
"No Sir, I was under the impression that introspection meant one was digging into themself. I thought I had nothing to dig into?"
He raises a skeptical eyebrow and agrees warily. "Yes, it does assume that much at least."
Harry turns away from the Potion's Master and presses his nose against the glass again. He can feel the tall man stand behind him and also gaze out the window.
"Then tell me, Potter," He says softly, dangerously. "What exactly are you doing?"
"I'm thinking about the rain, Sir."
"The rain. An admirable topic. Are you thinking of how it somehow caused your brain to trickle out of your ears?"
The boy can't help but smirk against the glass. "No, Sir. I'm thinking of flying in the sky. And how I normally enjoy the rain, but that I don't on a day like this."
They are both silent for a moment. The rain continues to pound on the roof, though, and Sirius is still making a ruckus downstairs. As if in agreement the sound of something breaking joins into the fray.
"Pray tell me how that's not introspection, Potter?"
Harry turns to smile at him cheekily. "Well, flying is done outside, correct? And although I'm thinking of how I enjoy flying, I'm thinking of the sensations. Not the feelings."
Snape studies him for a moment. "I will let your argument stand, Potter." Just this once, Harry reads from his statement.
Grinning at the pane and the window Harry wonders if they'll have more conversations in the future that they'll never refer to, and if he'll ever mention that when he talked of flying he was thinking of himself in the sky with black wings.
With a black slender figure on the ground, looking into the sky watching him.
